


before the fall

by Ruriska



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Because of alcohol, First Kiss, Incest, M/M, Shimadacest, Slightly dubious consent, shimadacest week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 00:17:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9211469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruriska/pseuds/Ruriska
Summary: Inhibitions lowered, they step too close to the precipice.(Shimadacest 2017 Day 5)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Look at that wanky fuckin' summary. Like, what does that even tell you? Nothin'.
> 
> Written for Shimadacest 2017 Day 5 prompt which is first/childhood, in which I conveniently ignored the childhood portion because I could. So here's their first kiss!

“Your brother has really nice lips.”

The young woman that speaks is drunk. 

They are _all_ drunk.

A little group of five, lounging in a hotel room that Genji had paid for using Hanzo’s credit card. He should feel indignant, did feel indignant a few hours ago before someone had put a bottle of something strong in his hands and Genji sat down on someone else’s lap.

“Do you think he’ll let me kiss him?”

Hanzo wonders if he looks so far gone that she’s speaking about him rather than at him. Her words are directed towards his brother instead. It’s true that Hanzo isn’t exactly in the most alert of states. His gaze is hooded, his shirt undone (he doesn’t remember when that happened), splayed like a starfish on the hotel bed. He hasn’t even bothered to move a pillow to make himself more comfortable.

The woman hovers above him, one knee of the edge of the bed, head blocking his view of the ceiling which he had been so diligently studying. There’s too much green eyeshadow around her eyes but her lips are red and shiny. He’ll probably let her kiss him.

Why not? He thinks. Might as well get something out of this, other than a headache in the morning. He never should have agreed to come but Genji had worn him down, begged and pleaded until Hanzo relented. Foolish.

“I’m going to find out.” The words are clearly meant to be a whisper but don’t even come close.

She descends towards him, time slows to a crawl as her lips fill up his vision, her cheeks are rosy red. He makes no move to stop her. It’s just a kiss.

The bed dips on the other side. 

A hand comes between them before they can connect, a barrier of flesh.

“He doesn’t want to kiss you,” Genji informs her, hand still firmly in place, denying her access. Hanzo turns his head to look at his brother. There’s a hickey on his neck, a livid red mark, someone used their teeth. Just for an instant, his eyes are dark, fathomless, cold.

A low moan rolls through the room, the other two clearly long past just kissing. 

The woman - he tries to remember her name, Hinoko? Kinoko? - pouts.

Genji nestles beside him, tucks his head between Hanzo’s head and shoulder. His fingers brush Hanzo’s cheek and neck but remain close enough to his lips, just in case she makes a second attempt. Hanzo can feel the warmth of them as they hover just above the skin.

“He doesn’t like girls,” Genji tells her, sounding prim and smug. He isn’t wrong. 

She takes that in stride, uttering a soft ‘oh’ as she makes herself comfortable on her knees beside him. She leans forward, hands flat on Hanzo’s chest. “ _Someone_ has to kiss him,” she says firmly, speaking it as an undeniable fact, as if the world would stop turning if this one task was not accomplished. 

She looks over her shoulder, towards the couch but no help is coming from that side of the room, judging by the rhythmic ‘slap, slap, slap’ of skin against skin and a high-pitched whine someone is making. “They are busy.” She looks at Genji instead. “You have to do it.”

Genji’s hand stills and Hanzo realises it was stroking his collarbone. He suddenly misses the action, wishes he’d been paying more attention before.

“Maybe I should,” Genji announces after he’s considered it for five long seconds. He angles himself up on his elbow. His fingers trace a path up Hanzo’s neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake, to reach his chin and tilt it with the firm press of two fingers.

There’s a part of Hanzo’s brain, distant and hazy, that is ringing alarm bells, screaming something about the clan and wrong and _brother_. 

Brother, brother, brother.

It lights a fire in his belly, that simple word, spoken so often between them but possessing a different meaning right here, in this hotel room. Anticipation thrums through him and he parts his lips, welcoming, offering. He is delighted by the way Genji’s eyes widen, the way surprise gives way to lust, a smouldering promise. 

The first kiss is soft and gentle, almost innocent. The next, when Genji angles Hanzo’s head a different way, is more experimental; the thoughtful flick of a tongue, the pull of Hanzo’s bottom lip between his teeth. It’s nice but it isn’t quite enough.

Genji pulls back to admire his handiwork.

The woman - Himiko, he’s fairly sure - looks pleased by the result. She’s putting all her weight onto her hands, pressing down on his chest but he isn’t sure if that’s why he’s short of breath or if it’s Genji’s doing. “Now his lips look even prettier.”

Genji hums in agreement; kisses him again, slow and leisurely. Hanzo wants to speed it up, ask for more but he’s drowsy and he can’t seem to gather the necessary energy to lift his arm and pull his brother closer. That’s okay. The heat is a steady thing, content to burn, it won’t go anywhere.

“You should fuck him,” Himiko declares suddenly, eyes bright with excitement. 

_Fuck him_. The words reverberate around Hanzo’s skull, send a quiver down his spine. 

“No.” Genji shakes his head, sits up and stretches, like a lion, indolent and proud. “Go and get me another drink.”

She pouts again but complies. Hanzo doesn’t watch as she leaves, he’s too busy studying his brother, the pensive expression doesn’t sit well on such a handsome face. He wants to wipe it away, replace it with something else.

“Genji,” Hanzo tries to say but the word is mumbled and maybe he has had far too much. He doubts he could stand right now.

His brother’s gaze flicks to him and Hanzo isn’t imagining any of the emotions he sees there, feels helpless, like he’s drowning, when faced by such overwhelming need. He experiences the echo of it, deep in his heart. It’s as if something he’d long hidden is crawling out of the depths, dragging itself into the light. Alcohol has helped weakened the chains. 

A thumb presses against Hanzo’s lower lip, too hard, Genji’s eyes too bright. They teeter together on a precipice and Hanzo can feel his heart beating in his throat, trying to pound its way out of his chest. The moment passes-

(“What drink do you want, Genji-kun?”)

\- and Genji collapses against him, buries his face against Hanzo’s neck. He can feel the hot breath on his skin, lips moving, forming words:

“Not like this.”


End file.
